


I don’t mind if we don’t get to forever

by thisismycoffin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic, Eventual Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Plants, Post-Time Skip, Roommates, Slow Burn, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismycoffin/pseuds/thisismycoffin
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi gets a roommate, gets over himself, and gets the guy.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 68
Kudos: 390





	1. Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> omihina brainrot. that is all.

“Omi-san, I have dinner plans, so you don’t have to worry about driving me home today.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi turned to see Hinata Shouyou wearing a navy blue button-down and jeans. He caught a whiff of the cologne he’s wearing, something like sandalwood. “Okay,” he said nonchalantly, resuming blow-drying his hair.

“Shouyou,” Atsumu called in his annoying singsong voice, slinging an arm over Hinata’s shoulders. “Ya have another date? Tryin’ to make me jealous?”

“It’s not a date,” Hinata protested, but the blush creeping on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Another date, Shou-kun? That’s like the third one this week,” Bokuto piped in as he styled his hair in front of the mirror he had hung on the door of his locker.

Kiyoomi sighed. It’s actually the fourth date of the week. Not that he felt the need to correct Bokuto.

“Just bring yer date to dinner with us. It’ll be fun!” Atsumus said.

“Err… No.” Hinata’s phone buzzed. “Ah, I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Atsumu-san, Bokuto-san, Omi-san!” He grinned and then he was off.

Kiyoomi’s eyes tracked Hinata as he exited the MSBY Black Jackals’ changing room. He wondered who his date this time was. Probably that player from the Warriors. Hinata’s mentioned they had been getting along pretty well since they went out last week.

Hinata’s overall magnetism was a well-known fact around the V. League if not the entire country at this point. In the past year and a half since Kiyoomi joined the MSBY Black Jackals, he has been witness to the absolute magnetism of Hinata Shouyou. Whether it was his teammates, their competitors, the fans, or his friends, everyone seemed to want a piece of the Jackals’ smallest spiker. He seemed to receive confessions on the daily. Fans would crowd around him hoping to get an autograph. They would get stopped on the streets by strangers for a quick selfie. Other opponents would wait by their changing room before and after matches to chat (read: flirt) with Hinata.

The spiker’s popularity had annoyed Kiyoomi, due in part to how his proximity to Hinata exposed him to all sorts of unwanted attention—random strangers approaching them, acquaintances messaging him out of the blue asking for Hinata’s number. It was a great tax on his time and it exacerbated his fear of germs. If not for Hinata’s impeccable hygiene, Kiyoomi would worry about Hinata getting sick as well—maybe some kid would sneeze at him or a fan who didn’t wash their hands enough would give him a high five during an event. Kiyoomi shuddered at the thought.

“If you guys are done styling your hair, let’s go,” Kiyoomi said at Bokuto and Atsumu. It never ceased to amaze him how much time these two idiots wasted slapping products on their heads.

“Just a bit more, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu responded, adding pomade to his bleached locks.

Kiyoomi knew exactly what Atsumu meant by “just a bit more”, so he made himself comfortable on a bench and whipped out his phone.

_Hinata Shouyou_

_Ditch your date. I need help babysitting._

_U can manage them w/o me! I believe in u omi-san!_ _┗_ _(_ _＾_ _∀_ _＾_ _)_ _┛_

Kiyoomi grumbled. No luck again, huh? For the past few weeks, he had been lowkey trying to get Hinata to postpone his dates by enticing him with extended practice time, or treating him to dinner, or (jokingly) saying that he would end up murdering Atsumu if Hinata wasn’t there to stop him. But of course Hinata would pass, because he was nice to his dates and fulfilled any and all social obligations. 

Kiyoomi kind of wanted to punch himself in the face. Despite wanting to resist Hinata’s charm—and he had held out a good long while at that, too—he was finally won over a couple of months ago. It wasn’t even by anything spectacular that Hinata did—he just gave Kiyoomi a box of his favorite hand sanitizers. “I passed by a store and they were on sale!” Hinata explained, flashing his signature wide grin. Since then, Kiyoomi began to notice all the little thoughtful things Hinata did for him and the rest of team. Like, how he would hold the door open for Kiyoomi when they happened to be coming in at the same time in the morning. Or how Hinata would always pack extra masks and hand wipes during fan events. Or how Hinata would always mention a restaurant’s cleanliness for Kiyoomi’s benefit when they were deciding where to go for dinner after practice.

All the little things Hinata did had been chipping away at Kiyoomi, until he finally realized his interest was leaning towards romance.

So he began offering Hinata a ride home about a month ago, when their practice for the upcoming season started again. “Your place is on the way to mine,” Kiyoomi had reasoned. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Kiyoomi would drive Hinata and drop him off at his building. On the way, Hinata would make him listen to an upbeat playlist he’s made, or chatter away about something that happened on one of his dates. But most of the time they’d just settle into a comfortable silence, occasionally making comments about how each player did during training that day.

Kiyoomi had been treasuring the 15 to 20 minutes he spent with Hinata in his car each day. For one, there was no annoying Miya or Bokuto butting into their conversations. For another, Kiyoomi didn’t have a reason to interact with Hinata outside of volleyball or the team, so the drive home was a good space to get to know him on a more personal level. (Though their conversations usually ended up back to volleyball anyway.)

So, yeah, it annoyed Kiyoomi that he couldn’t drive Hinata home whenever he had a date, which was usually at least once a week, except this week’s been a pretty busy one for the spiker. For whatever reason.

“Omi-san, can ya please stop glaring at me,” Atsumu said. “It’s making it hard to focus on my hair.”

“Hey is it cool if I invite Akaashi with us?” Bokuto asked.

Kiyoomi gave a sigh of relief. At least with Akaashi there keeping Bokuto under control, he would be less worried about their rowdiness. All that’s left was to stop thinking about Hinata. He could do that for tonight.

* * *

Getting swept by the conversation during dinner had at least kept Kiyoomi occupied enough not to check his phone. But now, back home, the first thing he’s doing was viewing Hinata’s stories on Instagram.

As expected, Hinata had uploaded a picture of him with the guy that Kiyoomi recognized as the OH for the Green Rockets. Kiyoomi flung himself onto his bed and dialed up his cousin.

“Hey,” Motoya greeted after a few rings. “Hinata’s on a date again?”

“What makes you think that?” Kiyoomi asked.

“You always call when you’re upset about Hinata on a date.” Motoya chuckled. “Who is it this time?”

Kiyoomi winced. “The Green Rockets dude.”

“Ohh… They’re on a second date already? They must really like each other.”

“Shut up.”

“You know confessing will make you feel better.”

“I don’t have a chance.”

“You say that but it seems to me you just don’t want to have an awkward conversation with Hinata.”

On point. As always.

“This is a passing infatuation. I just need to wait it out.”

“You said that two months ago.”

Kiyoomi sighed, burying his head into a pillow. “I don’t know what to do.”

Motoya laughed. “This is almost as bad as when you wanted to ask out Ushijima-san.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I’m just kid—”

Kiyoomi hung up.

Alright. Cleaning time. He put on a pair of rubber gloves, an apron, and a mask. He headed to his bathroom and began to scrub the tiles with the same vigor and determination he put into his spikes.

Nothing like cleaning to get his mind off of his latest obsession. Motoya bringing up Wakatoshi—a sore subject even though they split up two years ago—had only fanned his annoyance. Though, Kiyoomi had to admit his cousin was right. This was exactly how he had been when he first started crushing on Wakatoshi in middle school. He could still remember all the nights he spent practicing saying “I like you, Ushijima-kun” out loud to a volleyball. (Kiyoomi’s insides would shrivel up every time this memory came to mind.) In the end, it was Wakatoshi who asked him out in high school, and Kiyoomi was spared the mortifying ordeal of being the first to bare his feelings.

It wasn’t so much the confessing bit that’s got Kiyoomi nervous. After all, he’d never been shy to let anyone know exactly what he thought of them. (This may be the reason why people thought he’s hard to get along with. No one liked someone who was blunt to the point of hurtful.) No—he worried about the after. It was either the rejection or the unpredictability of romantic entanglements. Neither were appealing, especially the latter.

His feelings for Hinata just needed to be repressed back to hell. No good could come out of trying to ask him out. They were teammates. They were good friends. And Hinata switched boyfriends like outfits. Kiyoomi didn’t want to be just another flavor of the week and then have to see the guy everyday once it was over. Nope. Professional and personal life shouldn't mix. 

And yet.

Kiyoomi frowned, realizing there was a bit of grout that wouldn’t come off even though he had been scrubbing it for the last ten minutes. He switched gears to an old toothbrush for more precision, but to no avail. He added more bleach but it still wasn’t working.

Okay, now he was really pissed.

Cleaning was one of his go-to stress relievers but it appeared the universe was simply mocking him at this point. _Oh you want to repress your feelings for Hinata? Here, have this wonderful grout as metaphor for your futile attempts, foolish human._

Kiyoomi took a deep breath. He rinsed off the bleach-soaked tiles, took off his mask and gloves, then stepped out of the bathroom. He would deal with the obstinate grout tomorrow. Right now he was tired and grumpy, and he worried he would just end up wrecking the bathroom out of frustration.

* * *

Kiyoomi spiked the ball into the opposite court, the hard spin he added with the snap of wrist making it rebound off of Inunaki’s arms with a satisfying _thwap_. Beside him, Atsumu gave a low whistle. “Yer unusually fired up today, Omi-omi,” he commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi asked pointedly.

Atsumu held his hands up in defense. “Just that ya seem a little angry is all. Ya might break Inunaki’s arms if we keep going like this.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to your lazy sets than to how I’m nailing every spike.”

Atsumu scowled. “Come again? Whose sets are ya calling lazy?”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “They could be better.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Meian butted in, coming between the setter the spiker. He had learned to look out for the moments when Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s usual banter would devolve into fights. “Start cooling down. We’re done for the day.”

Atsumu opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Instead he turned away with a _humph_ , muttering under his breath as he strutted to the other end of the gym.

“Good work today, Omi-san,” Hinata said, appearing beside Kiyoomi with a bottle of water and a face towel.

Kiyoomi took the bottle, allowing his fingers to lightly brush over Hinata’s in the process. He noted his colleague’s eyes widening in mild surprise. He took a swig and wiped off the sweat from his forehead. “You, too.”

“I actually think Atsumu was trying to compliment you,” Hinata said as they go through their stretches.

Kiyoomi just gave Hinata a wilting stare in response. He’d been on edge the whole day because he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny bit of grout he couldn’t remove last night. He had googled how to address the problem and how to avoid it in the future. Several websites stated that steam cleaners could do the trick. He had considered ordering online but decided against it after seeing the 7 to 10 day shipping schedule. The thought of having to wait a whole week while the grout in his bathroom simmered and grew mold was almost enough to make him combust.

“Hinata, can you just take the bus home today? I need to drop by the hardware store,” Kiyoomi said. He didn’t like the fact that this would mean he hadn’t given Hinata any rides for the whole week, but duty called.

“Ah, sure. No trouble at all. What are you getting?”

“A steam cleaner.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s for cleaning crevices in the house. It’s supposed to be really effective.”

“Can I go with you? To the hardware store? I need to pick up a few things, too.”

Kiyoomi tried to tamp down the little flutter in his chest. He was a simple man. He had simple desires. Spending time alone with Hinata? Going to the hardware store to buy a steam cleaner so he can finally finish cleaning his bathroom? It’s like stars were aligning for him right now. “Sure.”

At the store, Hinata trotted off to the gardening section while Kiyoomi took his time comparing the steam cleaner options. The first one was a portable, handheld model, which would be convenient if ever Kiyoomi went on a long trip. It had an extendable nozzle and a bent spray. The second option was longer and cost thrice as much, but it included five different brush heads and a couple of extension tubes. In terms of range, the second one was definitely better, albeit pricey. It would probably not only address the bathroom but would be handy in other parts of the house, too. A portable steam cleaner seemed convenient, too, though.

As Kiyoomi weighed his options, a gentle tap on his shoulder broke his train of thought. He saw Hinata carrying a basket with different gardening tools—a coil of green hose, a clear spray bottle, a small rake, a shovel, and about three different pots. “You okay, Omi-san? You seem like you’re about to have an aneurysm.” Hinata grinned.

“Which of these two do you think is better?” he asked, pointing to the two options before explaining the pros and cons of each.

Hinata tapped his chin in thought. “I think this one is better,” he said, pointing to the more expensive model. “There’s lots more you can do with it. And it seems more convenient around the house.”

“Thought so, too.” Kiyoomi picked up the box and they both headed to the counter.

Waiting in line, Kiyoomi tried to come up with some excuse to extend his time with Hinata. Should he suggest dinner? But it was still early, so it might make it seem too obvious that he’s trying to keep him. Movie? But Kiyoomi hated theaters—the thought of several strangers having occupied the seat before him sent shivers down his spine.

Thankfully, Hinata chimed, “Should we have dinner, Omi-san? There are some nice restaurants nearby with good reviews for cleanliness.”

“Hmm…” Kiyoomi pretended to consider it. “It’s a little early for dinner, isn’t it?” he hedged.

“Ah, guess you’re right.” Then, before Kiyoomi could say “on second thought”, Hinata followed with, “What if you came over my place and I make us dinner then? You’ve been really nice about driving me and I wanna pay you back somehow.”

What was going on? Had Kiyoomi unwittingly helped a god in disguise this morning? Why was the universe being so kind to him? “You don’t mind?” he asked coolly, trying not to let any excitement seep into his voice.

“Not at all! I make a pretty mean curry,” Hinata said, jabbing his fist in front of him. “And I keep my apartment tidy! Though, maybe it won’t be up to your standards?” He raised an eyebrow and gave Kiyoomi a lopsided grin.

“I guess I’ll just have to see.”

Hinata beamed.

* * *

Hinata had a way of constantly surprising people. Whether it was with how high he could jump, his sudden left-hand spikes, his seemingly endless tenacity and energy, or the way his eyes would glass over in focus during a match. Off-court, it was his amazing ability of being able to make friends out of anyone—even the most standoffish characters would melt at his child-like exuberance and charming nature.

Having known Hinata for more than a year, Kiyoomi thought nothing about him could surprise him anymore.

“The penthouse? You live on the penthouse of this building?” Kiyoomi was thankful for the mask covering half his face, obstructing Hinata’s view of how agape his mouth was hanging. The prices of Tokyo real estate were ridiculously high. Even with a professional athlete’s salary, affording a condominium unit at the heart of the city was difficult without having some family money. Was Hinata an heir of some millionaire back in Miyagi?

Hinata pressed the P button of the elevator. “Do you remember that time Bouncing Ball threw us a party? The CEO was there? His name’s Kozume Kenma and he’s my best friend. He owns the penthouse, and a few other places all over Japan, but he rarely if ever stays here so he’s been subletting it to me for super cheap,” he explained.

“So does your best friend sublet all his properties or are you special?”

Hinata shrugged. “It's not like he needs the money.”

A soft _ding_ and the elevator doors slid open. As they walked down the corridor to the lone door on the floor, Kiyoomi cleared his throat and tried to keep his excitement under control. His mouth was dry in anticipation. This was a big deal right? Coming over to someone’s place for dinner, just the two of you? Kiyoomi never invited people to his place, mostly because he didn’t like having to clean up after them. He rarely felt nervous, but here, standing outside Hinata’s apartment, he felt his heart might just give out at any moment.

“Alright, come on in,” Hinata chirped as he swung the door.

The apartment was a maisonette-style on the top two floors of the 40-storey high-rise. It had vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors with built-in heating, and a large living room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass windows, giving a nice view of the Tokyo skyline. There was a flat-screen mounted on the wall opposite the couches.

“Someone’s living in style,” Kiyoomi said, admiring the tasteful minimalist design.

“I’m really lucky to have nice friends,” Hinata said. “Please make yourself comfortable! Do you want some tea?”

“Sorry for the intrusion.”

“No, don’t worry about it! You can just chill for a bit while I get the rice started then I’ll give you a tour.” Hinata hummed to himself as he disappeared down the hall to what Kiyoomi assumed was the kitchen. He sat on the white leather couch and thumbbed through the sports magazines on the coffee table, feeling a little awkward. Thankfully, Hinata returned carrying a kettle and cups.

“Your place is really tidy,” Kiyoomi said as he checked his empty cup. No water spots. Nice. “I have no notes.” He poured himself some tea, enjoying the sweet aroma in the air.

Hinata chuckled. “I’m relieved. It’s just really nice when everything’s in their proper place, you know? And I book professional cleaners once a month just in case I missed anything in my weekly cleaning.”

“I’m curious why you’ve never invited the team here before? We usually go to Atsumu’s, and his place is always a mess.”

“Well, I worry about Atsumu-san and Bokuto-san making themselves too comfortable here. You know how they can get,” Hinata said. “But I’m really glad you’re here, Omi-san,” he added with a smile, making Kiyoomi’s heart perform somersaults in his chest. Was Hinata trying to kill him?

“Uhm… So… A tour?”

“Oh, right. Let’s go.”

Kiyoomi followed Hinata through the different areas of the house. There were supposed to be four bedrooms, but one of them had been converted to a home gym. Hinata was occupying the master bedroom. (Sakusa noted several posters of beach volleyball on his bedroom wall.) The third bedroom was bare except for a built-in wardrobe and a bed. (“Kenma sleeps there sometimes,” Hinata commented.) The fourth bedroom was much like the last, minus the bed.

The best feature of the penthouse was probably the rooftop terrace with an outdoor jacuzzi. It was a nice, quiet spot overlooking Tokyo. Kiyoomi briefly wondered if Hinata would take his dates up there for a romantic evening.

Next part of the tour was supposed to be the balcony outside the living room, but Hinata had stopped Kiyoomi before he could step out. “It’s a bit of a mess out there,” Hinata explained with a tight smile. “Better to avoid it.” Kiyoomi decided not to probe. He noted, however, that most of the area had been covered with what appeared to be large tarpaulins, vaguely illuminated by the light coming out of the living room.

They ended the tour at the kitchen and its adjoining dining room, where Hinata instructed Kiyoomi to just sit by the table and have some more tea while he made their dinner. Not having anything to do while Hinata was occupied, Kiyoomi took out his phone and texted Motoya.

_Motoya_

_I’m at Hinata’s place. He’s making us dinner._

_Woooaaaahh!! A date? : >_

_Platonic hanging out._

_Sure, sure._

_I guess you’re thrilled by this development?_

_I’m happy for you._

_Shut up. I’m feeling awkward enough as it is._

_You think you’ll stay the night?_

_Use protection okay? ;)_

“Tch.” Kiyoomi put his phone away.

“Ah, Omi-san, if you’re bored you can watch TV in the living room,” Hinata suggested.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Kiyoomi asked again.

Hinata gave him a thumbs up.

Kiyoomi exited the kitchen, wondering if he could get away with popping out into the balcony to see what Hinata was hiding. Before his curiosity could get the better of him, he stopped on his tracks, confronted by a short man, black hair tied into a messy bun standing in the middle of the living room. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Uhhm,” the stranger said, looking uncomfortable. “Where’s Shouyou?”

Shouyou? “Who are you?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Kozume. I sort of own this place.”

This was the millionaire CEO? He looked no older than Kiyoomi. “Hinata’s in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” The guy—Kozume, Kiyoomi corrects himself—gave a small bow before walking past him to go to the kitchen.

“Kenma! I didn't know you were coming over.” Kiyoomi could hear Hinata exclaim. He just stood there in the living room, unsure if he should go to the balcony like he had planned or head back to the kitchen to meet Hinata’s… landlord? Best friend? This was one of the rare moments Kiyoomi wished he had better social skills.

He decided not to be a rude guest and go introduce himself. He trudged back to the kitchen where Hinata and Kozume were speaking in hushed voices. They both stopped—like they had been caught in the act of committing a crime—when they saw him walk in.

Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hinata’s teammate,” he said, bobbing a small bow towards Kozume.

“Yeah, I know,” Kozume said disinterestedly.

“Sorry, Omi-san! I didn’t know Kenma was coming over today. Is it okay if he stays for dinner?”

“Uhm. It’s technically his place so…” He trailed off.

“I won’t stay long. I just wanted to say hi,” Kozume told Hinata, completely ignoring Kiyoomi who was now feeling awkward standing by the doorway, hands in his pockets.

“Let me know next time if you’re gonna stop by so I can make your favorite stuff,” Hinata chided with a pout.

“Oh? I should let you know, huh? Like I’m not your landlord, renting out this penthouse to you out of the kindness of my heart?” Kozume teased, cupping Hinata’s jaw with his hand and squeezing his cheeks.

Well they seem awfully comfortable with each other. Best friends, huh? Kiyoomi decided to extricate himself from the awkwardness brewing between the three of them by quietly backing away. Once he was out of view, he all but runs.

Hinata and Kozume’s voices floated down the hallway. “Kenma, I’ll just finish up here. You go and hang out with Omi-san. I’ll be done in like 15 minutes.”

“You expect _me_ to hang out with someone I-R-L? I’m staying here.”

Kiyoomi sped up his walk to the living room. He was full on grumpy now. This was the first time he’s having dinner with Hinata just the two of them, and suddenly this guy had to show up? Kiyoomi sighed, trying to come to terms with the fact that his luck had run out. It must have just been a minor god he had helped out then.

He sat down and texted his cousin, hoping to get some advice on how to navigate what seemed like a dire situation now.

_Motoya_

_His landlord/best friend/the ceo of bouncing ball showed up._

_< Angry emoji>_

_Lol_

_Just be good and befriend him. Wouldn’t that earn u points w Hinata if the best friend likes u?_

Kiyoomi cursed under his breath. Why did he have to be infatuated with Hinata. Couldn’t it just be some small fish in the big pond that no one else was interested in? Then at least he’d have no competition. He briefly considered just making a run for it, but Hinata probably won’t forgive that unimaginable height of rudeness. No other way but to just get through this, he decided.

On his notes app, Kiyoomi started making a list of conversation topics he could use at the dinner table. _What’s it like being CEO. Do you play volleyball. How long have you and Hinata known each other._ _How did you meet. Did you ever date. How’d you manage to swing that._

He deleted the last three questions. Is there anything else he can ask? What do non-athletes even talk about?

_Do you have other hobbies._

“Omi-san, dinner’s ready!” Hinata shouted from the kitchen.

Kiyoomi sighed, tucking away his phone. He had four conversation points. He could do this. He could be nice and friendly and impress Hinata’s friend. Somehow. When finally took a seat at the table, these delusions were blasted away by the icy stare Kozume gave him. Kiyoomi’s own face crumpled in annoyance. What’s this guy’s deal?

Oblivious to the apparent tension in the air, Hinata announces, “Omi-san, I made the curry extra spicy for you. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you for the consideration, Hinata,” he replied dryly. He took a spoonful of the curry. It was pretty good.

“Your cooking is good as always, Shouyou,” Kenma said, beating Kiyoomi to the compliment.

Hinata grinned. At least someone at this table was happy.

“How are the Black Jackals doing? Are you excited for the upcoming season, Shouyou?” Kenma asked. Punctuating every other sentence with the spiker’s name made it clear to Kiyoomi that Kozume wasn’t interested in anything he had to say.

“It’s been great! The team’s been in top shape and unless some crazy strong guy’s debuting in any of the other teams, I’m pretty sure we’ll dominate this season again.”

Kozume smiled fondly as he watched Hinata shove spoonfuls of curry into his mouth.

Kiyoomi internally debated whether he should insert himself into the conversation. Thankfully, Hinata gave him an opening. “What do you think, Omi-san? Do you think we can defend our title this season?”

He considered it for a moment. “I think it’s not good to be complacent. Our team’s defense could use tightening up, especially against the Adlers. We barely won our last bout with them.”

Hinata nodded. “Gotta do something about Ushijima’s spikes.”

“You manage them, though.”

“Not all the time!” But Hinata also smiles a little, blushing at the compliment.

Kiyoomi noticed Kozume looking back and forth between them, wearing an inscrutable expression.

“Uhm…” Kiyoomi started, putting on his best effort at a friendly face. “Kozume-kun, do you play volleyball?”

“In high school, I was setter for Nekoma,” he replied, looking bored. “You probably never heard of us.”

No, he had not. “Do you still play?”

Kozume shook his head. “I don’t like getting tired. Watching is more fun.” He smiled slyly at Hinata. “And watching Shouyou is still _really_ fun.”

“Thank you so much for your continued patronage,” Hinata said, bowing a little, eliciting giggles from both of them. There was an inside joke Kiyoomi was missing here and no one was bothering to enlighten him.

“Anyway,” Kozume said, a strange light glinting in his eyes, “have you found a roommate yet, Shouyou?”

“You’re looking for a roommate?” Kiyoomi blurted in surprise.

Hinata froze for a moment before responding. “Y-yeah? Maybe? It’s a big place and it gets lonely sometimes, so I’ve been _considering_ getting a roommate, but Kenma’s never given his go ahead--”

“You have my permission,” Kenma interrupted. Then, he added, “Why don’t you ask Sakusa-kun to be your roommate? You two seem like you get along.”

Why was this dude talking like Kiyoomi wasn’t even here?

Hinata shot a glare at Kenma’s direction. (He seemed… annoyed?) Addressing Kiyoomi, Hinata said, “But you have your own place, right, Omi-san? Plus you don’t like people in your personal space.”

“Uhm, well… I mean…” Kiyoomi spluttered. This conversation just took a whole 180 degree turn and his head could not seem to process the information fast enough. Why was Kozume floating this now? Was he scheming? What was he scheming? “Do you have anyone in particular you were thinking of asking?”

“Not really. I didn’t even know Kenma would be okay with me having a roommate.” He casted Kozume another withering look.

“Well, even if Sakusa-kun doesn’t want to live with you, you’re pretty popular, Shouyou. I’m sure you’ll find a roommate in no time,” Kenma said.

What was that tone? Was he enjoying this?

“I have to… think about it,” Kiyoomi managed to say, staring at his now empty plate.

“Really?” Hinata looked like he was gonna burst with excitement. “This is really unexpected, Omi-san.”

He emptied his glass of water in one long gulp. “I have to think about it,” Kiyoomi repeated, his voice more steady. “But if you have other candidates for roommate in mind—”

“He doesn’t,” Kozume said. “Right, Shouyou?”

Kiyoomi glared at him, while Kozume just responded with an enigmatic grin.

“Well, now that we’re all done eating, Sakusa-kun and I will clean up. You go rest, Shouyou.” Kozume pulled Hinata out of his seat and slowly pushed him out of the kitchen. “Go on. Leave us here. We’ll take care of the everything.”

“Really? I can help.”

“Really. Go. Leave us.” He gave Hinata one last shove out of the kitchen.

Kiyoomi listened to Hinata’s retreating footsteps. When he was confident his teammate was out of earshot, he confronted Kozume. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” he asked innocently, picking up the plates and placing them in the sink.

Kiyoomi gestured at the empty air. “That.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kozume gave his full attention to the sink, sponging the plates in slow, rhythmic circles. “I just want Shouyou to be happy. He gets lonely living alone.”

“But—”

“And you’re so obvious.”

Kiyoomi froze. “What do you mean?”

Kozume sighed. “I’m not gonna tell Shouyou, if you’re worried about that. Like I said, I just want him to be happy. He’s popular. Everyone likes him. And he likes everyone. And I just know he’ll impulsively ask some guy he’s been out on two dates with to live with him, not thinking too far ahead about the consequences, because he’s that kind of guy. Isn’t it better if he’s living with his nice, diligent, conscientious teammate who will look out for him?” Kozume smiled coldly at Kiyoomi, making him shiver. This was one scary dude. “You can rinse this now.” He exited the kitchen, calling for Hinata.

Kiyoomi located a pair of rubber gloves under the sink and redid Kozume’s work of sponging the plates. He could hardly believe Hinata considered this cold, calculating guy as his best friend. They seemed like polar opposites. How do they even get along? Kozume seemed adept at manipulating people around him, a detached puppet master pulling everyone’s strings. Though, it could be argued Hinata was similar. He could get people to do what he wanted through his charisma and sincerity alone. Kiyoomi couldn’t decide which was scarier.

When he had finished rinsing and drying off the dishes, Kiyoomi found Kozume and Hinata on the couch, whispering to each other again. They seemed deep in conversation, Hinata’s face scrunched up in worry.

Kiyoomi cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. “Hinata, thank you for dinner. I’ll be going on ahead. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Thanks for coming over, Omi-san!” Hinata said, bouncing to his feet, apparently forgetting whatever was bothering him. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I hope you had fun.”

“Thank you again for having me.”

“No problem!” Hinata opened the door for Kiyoomi who was putting on a fresh pair of disposable gloves and a mask. “Also, uhm, don’t worry about giving an answer about the roommate thing, okay? Take as much time as you need! I’m not like in a hurry or anything. And if you have any questions just let me know, okay?”

“Sure.” Kiyoomi nodded at Kozume as a gesture of goodbye and Kozume just gave a small wave.

Waiting for the elevator, Kiyoomi anxiously tapped his fingers on the strap of his bag. He reviewed the events of the night, trying to wrap his head around the idea of possibly becoming Hinata’s roommate. This was a good thing, right? An objectively good thing? It should be. But Kiyoomi couldn’t help but feel an impending sense of doom.


	2. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: there is reference made to what can be considered a violent person who destroys personal items, which could be triggering. it's not graphic but i put the paragraphs between asterisks (***) if you would like to avoid them.

First things first. After arriving at his apartment, Kiyoomi washed his hands and unboxed the steam cleaner. He pushed aside all thoughts of what had transpired during dinner as he assembled his new weapon, excited to test it out on his most tenacious opponent yet.

Having scanned through the instructions, he filled the water tank, plugged the device in, and waited for the water to boil. Once the device was ready, he set the hard bristled brush against the grout. “Begone,” he whispered as he pressed the trigger on the handle and listened to the steam pouring out of the nozzle.

With the steam having loosened the grout, Kiyoomi could brush and wipe off the dirt, leaving a nice, pristine white line in between his tiles. He smiled down at this achievement, content at his small victory. “Good job, Steamer-san,” he said, holding up his new favorite toy with admiration.

After cleaning out the brush he used, he stashed Steamer-san in the cupboard where he kept the rest of his cleaning supplies, looking forward to Sunday when he would have the whole morning to test it out on the tricky spots in his apartment.

Freshly showered, he sat cross-legged on his bed, notebook in front of him, and finally let himself think of the predicament he was facing. Roommates with Hinata. He imagined what it would be like. Seeing Hinata in the morning, orange hair all messy (well, messier than usual), as he made toast. Dinners and evenings together, curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels, not really wanting to watch but just to huddle close under a blanket. Hinata drifting through the apartment, humming to himself as he swept the floor, occasionally smiling at Kiyoomi giving him a thumbs up for keeping everything clean. The picture of absolute domestic bliss.

It could be nice.

But then he started thinking about what he’d do if Hinata ever brought anyone home. Would Kiyoomi be alright holing up in his room pointlessly trying not to imagine the things Hinata would be doing with someone else? Could Kiyoomi trust himself not to violently throw someone out if he came across them in the morning?

There were practical considerations as well. He would need to give his landlord a 30-day notice that he was moving out. Vacating this place would be such a waste. He had felt lucky to get an acceptably clean 25 square-meter apartment for a low price, situated near the Black Jackals’ training facility. Plus, it had taken Kiyoomi a few weeks to make himself comfortable here, arranging the furniture to his satisfaction, decorating the apartment with air-purifying plants, memorizing the habits of his neighbors so he could avoid them.

Was he really ready to give up all his well-earned comfort to be near the man he was pining for? It seemed like the kind of impulsive, thoughtless thing the likes of Miya or Bokuto would do. Was Kiyoomi just as bad as those two?

With a sigh, Kiyoomi reached over to his bedside table to get his notebook and pen. As he usually did when making a tough choice, he made a pros and cons table. On the top of the page he wrote _living with hinata shouyou._

After about ten minutes he ended up with:

**Pros**

| 

**Cons**  
  
---|---  
  
Living with hinata

| 

I like living alone  
  
Hinata is tidy

| 

My routine might conflict with Hinata’s  
  
Large apartment (penthouse!)

| 

Hinata might bring home dates  
  
Can drive Hinata to and from practice

| 

Kozume unannounced visits  
  
Private gym

| 

Feelings for Hinata might be harder to bury  
  
Seeing an even list, Kiyoomi decided to ask Motoya for his input. He sent a picture of the list to his cousin together with the briefest possible summary of tonight’s events. Within minutes, Motoya was calling him.

“So what do you think?” Kiyoomi asked.

“This is a lot to process, but also, is this really a good idea?” Motoya asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Being roommates when you have,” a pause, “ _that_ going on.”

“It’s why I want you to weigh in. The number of pros and cons are equal so I can’t come to a decision.”

On the other end, Motoya let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright, fine, it seems you’re serious about this. Hmm… Maybe instead of just listing things down, you should rate each item in terms of importance. Like, say, on a scale of one to three, with three being the most important. Are you following?”

“Mhmm. So, for example, living alone is important to me, I can give that a three and then I give Kozume’s unannounced visits a one? Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. And then just add all the points for each column and then you can make a decision then.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He hung up.

Giving each item on his list a rating was considerably harder because Kiyoomi had to reflect on exactly what aspects of his life he wanted to cling to and what would bother him most. He didn’t really like Kozume, but he couldn’t say having him around was as terrible as potentially encountering a date Hinata brought date over. Did Kiyoomi value his personal space and routine more than spending time with Hinata? Did he want to repress his feelings for his teammate or did he want to pursue it?

It took him about half an hour to come up with his final tally.

**Pros**

| 

**Cons**  
  
---|---  
  
Living with Hinata

| 

3

| 

I like living alone

| 

3  
  
Hinata is tidy

| 

3

| 

My routine might conflict with Hinata’s

| 

2  
  
Large apartment (penthouse!)

| 

1

| 

Hinata might bring home dates

| 

3  
  
Can drive Hinata to and from training

| 

3

| 

Kozume unannounced visits

| 

2  
  
Private gym

| 

2

| 

Feelings for Hinata might be harder to bury

| 

1  
  
Total

| 

12

| 

Total

| 

11  
  
Bonus: Atsumu’s face when I tell him I will be roommates with Hinata

Bonus bonus: Making Atsumu miserable

Kiyoomi had to admit Motoya offered a pretty solid system. He shot his cousin a quick “thank you again” to which he replied with a simple “good luck”.

* * *

A month later, Kiyoomi was moving into Hinata’s penthouse apartment.

He had brought all the items in his house with him, even the appliances that Hinata already had. They decided to just keep all the extra stuff in the cupboard under the stairs in case they ever needed the spare. (Kiyoomi didn’t mention that if ever the roommate situation became untenable for him, he’d at least have all his stuff and could move out immediately.) They spent the better part of an afternoon unboxing Kiyoomi’s possessions and arranging his room.

He had taken the smallest bedroom and even then it was roughly the same size as his old apartment. He furnished his new nook with a bed, a small desk with a shelf for his books, and his plants. The built-in wardrobe was big enough to house all his clothes and then some.

As Kiyoomi proceeded with getting himself settled, he noted that the tarpaulins in the balcony were still there. He wondered why Hinata had been so cagey about it the last time he was here. He made a mental note to ask his roommate about it later.

Roommate. Referring to Hinata as his roommate sent little undulations of warmth through Kiyoomi’s belly. He tried to write it off as nothing more than hunger over how much lifting he’d done today.

After they had eaten dinner and washed the dishes, he and Hinata sat down to discuss their house rules. Hinata fired up his laptop and opened a word document to type out what they would decide.

“Keep the house clean,” Kiyoomi said. Even though he was confident Hinata kept the place well-maintained, it had to be said.

Nodding, Hinata jotted it down. “And you can tell me exactly how you want things cleaned, if you have any particular tips,” he added. “Hmm… How about having house guests? Is that an absolute no for you?”

Kiyoomi considered it. He absolutely hated the thought of having to clean up after others. But since Hinata’s incredibly sociable, he would inevitably invite someone over at some point. “Twenty-four hour notice.”

Hinata grimaced. “Twelve-hour notice,” he negotiated.

“Fine. But make sure they don’t make a mess. And I don’t want to come across any of the people you bring… who stay the night.”

“O-of course!” Hinata stammered. “And you can invite people over, too, Omi-san. It’s also your apartment now.” Hinata typed out rule number two.

By 8 PM, the roommates had worked out all the necessary rules to ensure living together would be a breeze. No loud noises after 9 PM. They’ll alternate cooking days and whoever didn’t cook would do the dishes. Each other’s bedrooms were off-limits. They’ll wash their laundry separately on Sundays and do the grocery together. No sex in the common areas of the living room, kitchen, hallways, balcony, and jacuzzi. (Kiyoomi had added that rule mostly for hygiene purposes but also because he did not relish the idea of walking in on Hinata and some rando getting it on.)

“Speaking of the balcony,” Kiyoomi segued, “are you ever going to tell me what’s out there?” Hinata just shrugged, smiling innocently. He dropped the subject.

“Have you ever had a roommate before?” Hinata asked curiously.

Kiyoomi nodded gravely. He’d had plenty of roommates during training camps in high school, but they were considerate (or afraid) enough of him to respect his idiosyncrasies, keep the room they slept in clean, and keep noise to a minimum. In college, he lived in a dormitory and his roommate was a perky nineteen-year-old who constantly had his nose up Kiyoomi’s business, left his dirty laundry strewn on the floor, and never respected the “no eating in the room” rule leading to an ant infestation. It was possibly the worst experience of Kiyoomi’s life and since then he swore he would never live with anyone again, lest he be forced to commit manslaughter.

When he told this to Hinata, the orange-haired boy looked like he had been splashed with a bucket of cold water. “Uh, so, if you hated it so much, why’d you agree to being my roommate?” Seeing the surprise on Kiyoomi's face, he quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong! I’m really, _really_ happy we get to live together, but, uhh, I’m just wondering.”

 _Because I like you._ “Because you’re fine.”

“Oh. Well, if I ever do anything that annoys you, please tell me immediately!”

“Same here.”

Satisfied with the ground rules they’d set up, they bid each other good night and stalked off to each of their rooms.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the two of them to adjust to each other’s routines and habits, because, for the most part, they stayed out of each other’s hair.

Kiyoomi would wake up at 6 AM sharp and by the time he trudged downstairs, Hinata would already be meditating in the living room in front one of the large windows. Kiyoomi would be hitting the treadmill in the gym room just as Hinata went out for his own morning run. An hour later, they would be eating a light breakfast in the kitchen and afterwards they would drive to training.

Sometimes, on evenings when Kiyoomi was scheduled to cook, Hinata would hover about the kitchen, chatting with him or offering tips to bring out a dish’s flavor. Kiyoomi didn’t mind; he had never been one for taste, often eating simply for sustenance. Hinata, however, paid a lot of care to cooking, looking expectantly at Kiyoomi for feedback whenever he was the night’s chef. Kiyoomi happily doled out compliments.

They would spend the rest of the evening either in their separate rooms or lounging in the living room watching game tapes.

By the end of Kiyoomi’s first week, he was feeling quite satisfied. In a large apartment that occupied two whole floors, towering over the city, he could get a good night’s sleep without worrying about any neighbor’s noises. The high ceilings made him feel less cramped. He enjoyed seeing the Tokyo night sky through the windows of the living room.

He had particularly enjoyed telling Atsumu and Bokuto that he was moving in with Hinata. Atsumu had whipped his head to stare at Hinata so fast Kiyoomi thought the setter’s neck would break. “What?” He collapsed to his knees and grabbed onto Hinata’s shirt, face crumpled in despair. “Did ya even consider me, Shouyou?” Atsumu asked. “Ya'v never even once invited me to yer apartment! I thought I was yer favorite teammate! Why not me?!”

“No offense, Atsumu-san, but you’re kind of messy,” Hinata replied, ignoring Atsumu’s theatrics. Bending down to pat the bleached hair, he added, “You can come over when Omi-san’s all settled in. I promise.”

Kiyoomi smirked at Atsumu, enjoying the way his expressions oscillated between annoyance and defeat. Best view.

That Sunday, a scheduled day of rest for the entire team, Kiyoomi was surprised to find Hinata rolling up the tarps in the balcony to expose mounds of dirt and upturned plant boxes. He watched from the living room as Hinata began sifting through the dirt, picking up pieces of clay and chucking them into a garbage bag, a look of intense frustration on his face.

“Need some help?” Kiyoomi asked, stepping out onto the balcony.

“Don’t come any closer, Omi-san. It’s filthy here,” Hinata said, looking up briefly from his work.

Kiyoomi stopped in his tracks. “If you give me gloves, I can help with—” he motioned at what he assumed was a ruined urban garden.

Hinata stood up and regarded him curiously. “You don’t mind?”

“This would get cleared up faster if we do it together.”

“Okay. There are extra gloves in the drawer under the television.”

Kiyoomi ducked into the living room to retrieve them and set about helping his roommate. First they removed all the hard pieces from the soil—small sticks, nails, broken bits of clay. Then, using small spades, they shoveled the dirt and threw them in a sack Hinata had laid out. In about two hours, they had cleared up most of the soil and broken objects, stacking the sacks and trash bags in one corner, while the empty plant boxes were washed and stacked against the railing.

Hinata attached a hose to the faucet and sprayed down the balcony as Kiyoomi stood a few feet away, steering clear of the muck. They took turns mopping the porcelain tiles. Kiyoomi even whipped out Steamer-san to use on the spaces between tiles, and Hinata gaped at how easily the dirt loosened up. “It’s so convenient,” Kiyoomi agreed.

They finished cleaning up a little before noon. Hinata spread out a blanket for them to sit on and laid out plates of onigiri he had prepared that morning. Kiyoomi bit graciously into the treat, not realizing how hungry he had been, as he marveled at the now cleared up balcony, damp tiles drying under the sun. The refreshing feeling of having completed a cleaning task weighed just as heavily in Kiyoomi’s heart as a well-executed feint.

After some time, he turned to Hinata and asked, “how did it even end up like that,” tipping his chin at bags of soil in the corner. “Hurricane hit only this building?”

Hinata snorted. “Something like that.”

“I’ll let you have the last onigiri if you tell me.”

***

“Do you seriously think I’ll do anything for food?” Hinata grumbled with a pout, but he relented anyway, shoving the last piece of onigiri in his mouth. “I was sort of dating this guy on and off for a few months. We were never really exclusive but I guess he assumed we were? So when he found out I was seeing other people he just flipped out and before I knew it he was wrecking the garden. I had to call the building’s security to kick him out.”

“Who is he?” Kiyoomi snapped, making Hinata jump a little. “What’s his name? Where does he live?”

“W-What? Why?”

“So I can beat his sorry ass, why else?” Kiyoomi’s hands tightened into fists as he felt his blood boil in rage. He was going to kill this guy.

Hinata chuckled nervously. “That’s not necessary. And anyway he apologized already! It’s fine now.”

“Don’t try to defend him. What he did was terrible. And he should pay.”

“He’s been dealt with,” Hinata assured him, leaning back on his arms. “I blocked him on all my social media after he apologized, and he’s blacklisted from entering the building.”

Kiyoomi took a deep breath. “When did this happen?”

“Hmm… Like a couple of weeks before you came over the first time?”

“Has he bothered you since?”

Hinata shook his head. “I’m sorry if I worried you. But, really, it’s all fine now! So don’t worry about it. It just took me a while to clean up the garden because I would get so upset remembering how he just ruined so many weeks of hard work. All those vegetables—such a waste.”

***

Not exactly a trooper when it came to comforting people, Kiyoomi settled on awkwardly patting Hinata’s head and ruffling his hair. “If he bothers you, tell me. I will kill him.”

“Sure, but let’s not commit any murders, okay? We can’t play volleyball if we’re in jail.”

Kiyoomi sighed, glancing again at the space before him. He didn’t know what it had looked like before the shitty ex-not-boyfriend had destroyed it, but judging from the considerable amount of soil and planters they had just cleaned up, it was likely a excellent little urban farm. “I’ll help you with it,” Kiyoomi found himself suddenly blurting out.

“With what?”

“The garden. You’re starting over again, right? I’ll help you.”

“You don't have to.”

“I said I’ll help. Just let me.”

Peals of laughter erupted from Hinata. “If you insist.”

They worked on the garden on weekends and sometimes after practice when they weren’t too tired, with Hinata instructing Kiyoomi how to set up the respective plots, explaining the proper way to space each crop, and how to measure soil temperature and acidity. In a span of two weeks, Kiyoomi learned so much about drainage, crop schedules, when and how to germinate seeds indoors, transplanting, and direct sowing. Hinata patiently explained the necessities of proper sunlight and that simply leaving plants under indiscriminate amounts of it could kill them. Although Kiyoomi wasn’t a huge fan of how some trays needed to be kept indoors, seeing Hinata attend to them with diligence and expectant smiles was enough for him to keep quiet about it.

They also set up a separate plant box for herbs they had bought—thyme, mizuna, wasabina, mint, and parsley. The rosemary was set separate from the rest “because it doesn't get along with other plants,” Hinata explained.

Slowly, the garden came together. In anticipation of autumn, they seeded broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, peppers, and tomatoes. They hung a calendar beside the television and marked the dates when they should transplant the seedlings. It was a lot of work—a surprise to Kiyoomi who only kept low-maintenance succulents he only needed to water once in a while.

One Sunday, Hinata surprised him by asking if there was anything he wanted to grow.

“It’s your garden.” Kiyoomi shrugged.

Hinata scowled. “You live here—it’s _our_ apartment, so this is _our_ garden. You keep plants in your room, right? Is there anything else you want to raise?”

Kiyoomi thought about it. It’s not like he kept plants as a hobby. He had just read somewhere that they purified the air, so of course he had to get them. So, no, there was nothing in particular that he wanted to raise or care for, but Hinata was regarding him with his huge, amber eyes, that Kiyoomi just mumbled, “Some flowers, maybe, might be nice.”

“Yes, let’s get flowers!” Hinata exclaimed, inching the slightest bit closer to Kiyoomi. “What kind?”

He scoured his memories trying to come up with an image of any kind of flower he had seen that left any impression on him. Nothing came to mind. Maybe it was because he never paid much attention to things like trees or shrubbery, or maybe his brain was just short-circuiting because Hinata had edged his way even closer to Kiyoomi now that their shoulders were just barely touching. Kiyoomi abruptly shifted away. “Anything easy to grow is fine.”

The briefest look of disappointment passed over Hinata’s face before he smiled and said, “Got it! We can check out the store and ask about low-maintenance flowers next time.”

By the end of Kiyoomi’s first month, the garden looked good. He and Hinata put up a few vertical planters along the balcony’s railing where they added the flowers they had gotten. After some research, they chose easy-to-care-for azaleas, irises, and Christmas camellias. Kiyoomi had to admit it was nice having a bit of color in the otherwise dull balcony. And once the crops finally come to their own in autumn, the garden would be perfect.

“You look happy,” Hinata remarked, glancing up at Kiyoomi who was surveying the balcony, admiring a job well done.

“It looks nice,” he replied.

“Yeah it does. Thanks for putting up with me through it.”

“It was fun.”

“Really? You seemed annoyed most of the time.”

“I just don’t like dirt,” Kiyoomi said. “But everything else was fun.”

Hinata laughed. “I have to say, Omi-san, I thought we would have more troubles as roommates. But I’m really happy living with you.”

Kiyoomi felt his face flush. “Me, too.”

* * *

A couple of days after completing their garden restoration project, Hinata decided it was finally time to invite Atsumu and Bokuto over. Kiyoomi had protested, citing their noisiness and overfamiliarity as reasons to keep them away, but he secretly just worried that they would end up coming here more often, intruding on the little domestic heaven Kiyoomi’s been living with Hinata. But Kiyoomi couldn’t dissuade Hinata. After practice that Saturday, he was shepherding Bokuto and Atsumu through the door and into the apartment while Hinata told them not to make too much noise.

“I can’t believe we’ve been making do in ‘Tsumu’s tiny apartment when you’ve been living in a palace this whole time, Shou-kun!” Bokuto exclaimed, bouncing on his heels as he took in the space.

Atsumu looked just as thrilled by the penthouse. Within seconds, he was already climbing up the stairs and they could hear him opening and closing doors.

“Miya, don’t go in my room,” Kiyoomi barked.

“Too late!”

“You even have a huge balcony! And so many plants!” Bokuto slid open the glass door and stepped out into the garden. “And what a great view!”

“Shouyou, you have a jacuzzi? This is so cool!” Atsumu shouted from upstairs. 

Hinata ran out to the balcony to proudly show Bokuto the plants that had just sprouted earlier that week, while Kiyoomi sulked on the couch, trying to tamp down his irritation at his now surely ruined paradise. He knew he was being unreasonable. After all, Atsumu never complained when the Black Jackals just assumed they’d hang out at his place. And this was Hinata’s apartment—it couldn’t be helped that he would occasionally bring people over. Wasn’t he already being so considerate making Bokuto and Atsumu their first guests since being roommates—people that Kiyoomi was already comfortable with?

With a sigh, Kiyoomi decided to be a more gracious host and prepare tea and snacks for everyone.

As the day progressed, his mood improved, helped by Hinata corralling Atsumu and Bokuto to the living room and telling them to behave. Hinata set up a video game console and demolished everyone at Super Smash Bros. (“I play with Kenma, of course I’d be good,” Hinata explained.) They had Greek delivered for dinner. Atsumu suggested they open a bottle of white and lounge in the jacuzzi, which Hinata agreed to with a bit of prodding.

The tub couldn’t accommodate all of them. It was perfectly fine for Kiyoomi who opted to sit on a blanket, fully clothed, as half-naked Atsumu and Bokuto immersed themselves in the warm water, occasionally sipping their flutes. Hinata sat beside him with only his legs dangling in the tub. Kiyoomi tried not to be too hyperaware of how Hinata’s shoulder was pressing against his arm.

“This is the life,” Atsumu sighed, leaning back. “I should get a nicer apartment.”

“Me, too. Keiji would love something like this!” Bokuto said. “Shouyou, how much does Kenma charge you for this place?”

“Hmm… 100,000 yen every month. Split between me and Omi-san.”

The look of utter disbelief on his teammates’ faces made Kiyoomi laugh. He must have worn the same expression when Hinata first told him how much he would be paying for rent. He had hounded Hinata for days, demanding the truth. “Really, that’s just how much Kenma charges,” Hinata assured him.

“You can’t be serious,” Atsumu breathed. “That’s how much I pay for my shitty one bedroom unit.” He stared daggers at Kiyoomi, not hiding his jealousy.

“Kenma must really love you, huh, Shouyou,” Bokuto said with a laugh.

Kiyoomi let that one go. He’d come to accept the strange relationship Hinata had with his best friend, and resigned himself to the fact that millionaires just live on a whole other plane of existence mere mortals could not comprehend. He just thanked his lucky stars and prayed that arrangement could go on forever.


	3. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! thank to everyone for leaving comments and kudos and reading this nonsense~

Kiyoomi had a suspicion that Hinata might be interested in him, too.

Exhibit A: Hinata stared at him. A lot. In the changing room after practice as Kiyoomi exited the shower. In the kitchen while he was washing the dishes. In the living room while he was vacuuming. In the balcony while they watered the plants together.

Kiyoomi had developed something akin to a sixth sense after being so closely observed. He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the way Hinata would abruptly look away, face turning red, whenever Kiyoomi caught him looking.

Exhibit B: Hinata was becoming bolder about touching him.

It started with small casual touches—Hinata gently placing his hand on Kiyoomi’s arm to get his attention, or on his back when he was squatting to turn the soil in their garden. At some point, he had brushed the hair falling over Kiyoomi’s eyes, saying something about how he should get a haircut soon.

Once, Hinata had fallen asleep cuddling Kiyoomi. This was last week, when Hinata had stumbled into the apartment past midnight, drunk and giggling after attending a party. Kiyoomi was on the couch, quickly turning off the television before Hinata could see that he was binge watching a cheesy Korean drama.

“You okay?” he asked, getting up to steady Hinata who had knocked into the coffee table. He tripped over Kiyoomi’s feet and they—as if characters in the show Kiyoomi was just watching—fell onto the couch together, Hinata plopping right on top of Kiyoomi. Apparently finding this comfortable—or maybe he was just bonkers drunk—Hinata fell asleep.

Kiyoomi was still as a rock, contemplating whether he should extricate himself from this delicate position, wake up Hinata, or try to pick him up and carry him to his room. After getting his heart under control, Kiyoomi decided to go for option one. Slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping man, he wiggled out from under him and rolled off the couch. He took a blanket from Hinata’s room and put it over him. Then he placed a glass of water on the coffee table. And a bucket.

Exhibit C—possibly the most damning evidence of all: There had been a marked decrease in the number of Hinata’s dates ever since Kiyoomi moved in.

At first, he thought it was just Hinata being a considerate roommate, making sure that Kiyoomi settled in comfortably before he started leaving him alone at nights. Then they started restoring the garden, which took up Hinata’s time. When they had finished, there were absolutely no more special reasons for Hinata to _not_ go on dates. But the number of dates still kept dwindling, until finally, a whole week had passed with Hinata simply staying at home with Kiyoomi, the two of them on the couch watching movies.

Casually, he brought up it. “You didn’t go out with anyone this week.”

“Huh?” Hinata played dumb, eyes fixed on the screen. He shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Have people grown tired of you?”

Hinata laughed at the playful jab. Then, casting Kiyoomi a long—meaningful?—glance, he said, “Maybe I just like spending time with you more, Omi-san.”

“Mhm. Sure.” Internally, Kiyoomi was screaming. Flirting. This is flirting! Hinata’s flirting with him! He tried to come up with a witty response, but he thought about it too long and the moment had passed.

Sitting on his bed later that night, Kiyoomi wondered what it all meant. Why was Hinata flirting with him? Could it be that Hinata had romantic interests in Kiyoomi? A signal that he wanted them to date? But Hinata and Atsumu flirted constantly—and neither of them ever took each other seriously. Maybe Hinata was just doing it for fun. Maybe Kiyoomi was just reading into it. Maybe it meant nothing.

But what if?

He sighed. There was no way to know for sure except to ask Hinata, and he was already feeling annoyed with himself for being too much of a coward to just go out and ask him already.

It’s not like Kiyoomi had much experience in this department. His only serious long-term relationship was Wakatoshi, who had been the one to ask him out. Wakatoshi had been very calm and smooth about it, too, simply saying, “Let’s have dinner, the two of us,” and Kiyoomi practically melted on the spot.

After he and Wakatoshi broke up, Kiyoomi had been asked out by a couple of people, but the dates never amounted to much. The closest thing he did to initiating a romantic relationship had been in college, when he and a classmate had pulled an all-nighter to finish a term paper. His classmate had walked out of the shower wearing only a pair of sweats, steam billowing behind him. Kiyoomi, still reeling from his split with Wakatoshi, had found himself saying, “You and me. Let’s do it. Right now.” The classmate had been surprised but obliged anyway, and right after they’d done the deed, they resumed working on their paper like nothing had happened, and the incident was never spoken of again.

Kiyoomi was pretty sure he wanted to go about dating Hinata with more finesse. He faced the potted snake plant in his room and cleared his throat. “Hinata, we should go on a date.”

Nice. That sounded natural. But… maybe he shouldn’t say “should go on a date.” Maybe it would be better to phrase it as a question, be less assertive about it?

“Hinata, would you like to go on a date with me?”

That was okay, too. Or was it too formal? Should he be more casual about it?

“Hinata, let’s have dinner.”

If he just said dinner, would Hinata interpret it as simply eating together, devoid of romantic implications? Kiyoomi should probably be clearer about his intentions.

“Hinata, I like you. Let’s go on a date. Dinner?”

That one felt forced.

Kiyoomi rehearsed variations of his confession for something like an hour. He tried throwing in a compliment (“you’re amazing on court”), exposing more of what he felt (“I respect and admire you”), begging (“please go on a date with me”), in search of the perfect way to phrase his invitation. He was certain that if his snake plant were sentient, it would conclude that its owner was the biggest loser in the world.

In the end he settled for something simple. “Hinata, would you like to go on a date with me?”

He felt confident with that. It wasn’t too demanding, too casual, or too desperate-sounding. He had even written down the various scenarios that might play out—acceptance, rejection, or reluctance—and how he would respond to each.

The plan was clear in his head: He would ask Hinata tomorrow while they watered the plants together, which they usually did after breakfast. Hinata would be in a good mood—belly full and endorphins still pumping in his system following his morning run. Plus, being in the garden would hopefully trigger some pleasant feelings and memories in Hinata’s brain, increasing the possibility of him saying yes to a date with Kiyoomi. It was, by his assessment, a foolproof plan.

As Kiyoomi settled in the for the night, he felt a wave of excitement. Tomorrow, finally, he’ll confess. All the feelings he’d been dancing around would find their culmination. The end to a long sentence. Whether Hinata accepted or rejected his affections, at least Kiyoomi would finally have his answer. It was going to be a great sigh of relief.

Suddenly—as if the gods had reconsidered giving this pitiful human so much good fortune—Kiyoomi’s phone buzzed.

_Wakatoshi_

_I will be in Tokyo tomorrow. Can we meet? 2 PM. Roastery._

Kiyoomi shot up. Why did Wakatoshi want to meet? The two of them didn’t interact outside of volleyball, the sport serving as a comfortable social buffer for both of them. They enjoyed light banter before or after matches, grinned at each other when they bumped each other’s spikes and serves, but beyond that, there was no reason for them to talk.

He scanned his memories for any clue of what Wakatoshi might want from him and came up empty. Was this just a friendly invitation to catch up? Asking to meet up out of politeness? Or maybe… did he want to get back together?

Kiyoomi shook his head. He wasn’t going to entertain _that_ idea. Taking a deep breath, he sent Wakatoshi an “ok”, turned his phone on silent, and did his best to will himself to sleep.

* * *

Wakatoshi’s invitation had thrown a wrench into Kiyoomi’s carefully crafted plan of asking Hinata out. Lacking the mental or emotional energy, he decided to postpone his confession and just psych himself up for his meeting with his ex-boyfriend.

He ran twice as long that morning, ate his breakfast at a snail’s pace, and ignored Hinata as he quietly watered the plants in the garden, feeling—somehow—simultaneously keyed up and dazed. Hinata must have noticed something was wrong because he would periodically ask if Kiyoomi was feeling fine, to which he replied with a curt nod.

Kiyoomi arrived at the coffeeshop an hour early. He simply couldn’t stand another minute in the apartment, hoping to give himself time to settle his nerves before facing Wakatoshi. He hated how, even now, two years after their relationship, the man still had so much influence over him.

Small decaf black coffee in hand, Kiyoomi plopped onto a chair and tried to kill time by reading. He couldn’t focus, though. After realizing he had read the same passage five times without really absorbing anything, he put the book away and sulked in his seat. Just then, he spied Wakatoshi entering the coffeeshop.

As he watched his ex-boyfriend walk towards him, Kiyoomi swallowed hard and adjusted his mask. No need to give Wakatoshi any opportunity to read his face.

He probably shouldn’t feel so cold when Wakatoshi was actually smiling at him. “Thanks for meeting me,” he said, taking a seat across him. He made no comment about both of them being way too early.

Kiyoomi wanted to cut right to the chase. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“Yes.” Never one to dilly-dally himself, Wakatoshi placed an envelope on the table and slid it towards Kiyoomi. “I personally wanted to deliver this to you.”

Carefully, Kiyoomi opened the heavy envelope and took out the soft, pearlescent paper. He gritted his teeth as he silently read the words inscribed in delicate script. “So you’re getting married.”

“Yes.” Wakatoshi smiled again. “I would love it if you came to my wedding.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Kiyoomi shoved the invitation into his bag. “Didn’t know you were dating anyone. Who’s the girl?”

“Akiyami Eri. She’s the daughter of one of my mother’s friends. The marriage is something our families put in order. I’ve only met her a few times.”

“Seriously?” Kiyoomi scoffed. “And you’re okay with that? Getting married so soon? To someone you barely know?”

Wakatoshi thought about it for a moment before answering. “She’s a lovely woman with a lovely family. I’m sure we will have a wonderful life together.”

Kiyoomi was thankful for his mask, dreading the thought of Wakatoshi seeing whatever face he was making. He pictured this so-called “happy life”. Living in some suburban house—white picket fence, yard, Golden Retrievers and all that—with his gorgeous socialite wife. They’ll have adorable little kids trotting up to Wakatoshi after his matches, saying they want to play just like him, little volleyball geniuses being raised by a famous, talented athlete. And their beautiful family would probably grace the cover of some lifestyle magazine along with some nauseating article with an abhorrent title like “How Does Ushijima Wakatoshi Have It All” because that’s what beautiful people did.

Kiyoomi wanted to throw up. His heart felt like it was being quartered, pulled and torn whichever way. He willed himself to say the words. “Congratulations then. I’m happy for you.”

The conversation shifted to volleyball and the upcoming V. League, Wakatoshi’s last for a while, since he was planning to play overseas next year. His wedding was set to happen before he moves to Poland with his-soon-to-be-wife.

Kiyoomi mostly stayed quiet and listened as Wakatoshi enumerated his plans, only occasionally offering a comment or answering a question. An hour later, he was chewing his bottom lip, trying to come up with some excuse to make an exit. He ended up saying he needed to go because he planned to clean his apartment.

“How’s living with Hinata Shouyou?”

Kiyoomi was stunned. “Where’d you hear about that?”

“Kageyama and Hoshiumi have had their opinions on the matter.”

Tch. Hinata must have told Kageyama, and Kageyama must have told Hoshiumi. Hoshiumi must have blabbed to every V. League player he knew. Kiyoomi shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“You seem happy.” 

Kiyoomi tried to find the humor in the statement because—how dare this guy, seriously? “I have to go,” he said, getting up.

Before they parted ways, Wakatoshi said, “Please let me know if you’re bringing someone to the wedding.” His soft smile heavily implied he was aware of Kiyoomi’s feelings for his roommate. No surprise there. They dated for years—Wakatoshi’s always been able to read him like an open book.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes in response and headed to his parked car.

* * *

Arriving home, Kiyoomi found Hinata wearing headphones, dancing to a beat only he could hear as he vacuumed the living room. Any other day, the sight of his roommate shaking his ass while cleaning would’ve made Kiyoomi a happy man, but he was in no mood this particular afternoon.

Noticing him just standing by the entryway, Hinata removed his headphones. “Hey, Omi-san. How’d your coffee date go?”

Kiyoomi grunted as he slipped off his shoes. He ignored Hinata’s question and stomped off to his room, loudly slamming his door to signal he should not be disturbed.

He took out the wedding invite from his bag and stuck it in between the pages of a book on his table. Then he placed five more books on top of that book, as if the invitation might start crawling out from underneath like an insect. He flung himself onto his bed and prayed for death.

At around 7 PM, Hinata knocked on the door. “Omi-san, dinner.” He didn’t bother answering, and after a while Hinata said, “I’ll eat ahead,” and left.

Shortly after, Hinata sent him a text. _Food’s in the fridge. Just heat it up when you get hungry!_

Kiyoomi just continued to sulk in his room, increasingly getting irritated with himself and how much it bothered him that Wakatoshi was getting married. It wasn’t like the marriage had anything to do with him. He should be happy for Wakatoshi. Despite everything, he still cherished the man he admired as a friend, a rival, his first love. Wakatoshi was going to have a _lovely_ life—a sickeningly basic, normal life doing what he loved, playing overseas, surrounded by other great people who would love him and care for him.

Maybe Kiyoomi just wanted to know how he figured in all of it.

An incessant knocking on the door broke him out of his reverie. “Omi-san, open up.”

Kiyoomi buried himself further under his sheets. If he ignored it, Hinata would leave. He really didn’t want to be seen like this. At worst, he’ll just end up taking out his temper on his well-meaning roommate.

Five minutes later, Hinata was still knocking.

With a grunt, Kiyoomi pulled himself up and opened the door a crack. “What do you want?” he barked.

Hinata flinched a little but maintained a smile. “Let’s go spike some balls.”

Kiyoomi furrowed his brows. “What?”

Swinging his arms to mime spiking, Hinata replied, “Hitting balls! Always makes me feel better. Let’s go.”

Kiyoomi sighed. He really didn’t want to, but he knew he’d up feeling worse if Hinata’s expectant face falls in disappointment. “Let me get dressed.”

Wordlessly, they made their way to the condominium’s courtyard. They found a small space obstructed by décor plants. After doing some light stretches, they proceeded to do some drills. Without a net, there was nothing particularly fun they could do, but Kiyoomi did feel a little better hitting something.

Hinata kept up. They rallied, did some spikes and overhead passes. Kiyoomi wished he could do some serves, but the space was limited, and they had to respect the few people who were milling about.

An hour in, Kiyoomi could feel his stomach growling. It was a terrible idea to work out on an empty stomach. As if reading his mind, Hinata said, “Let’s take a break? I packed some food.”

They found a bench and each ate in silence. As Kiyoomi bit into the shrimp tempura Hinata had cooked, his thoughts strayed again to Wakatoshi. He wondered if there was anything he could do at this point to stop feeling so terrible every time he thought about his ex.

But then again, it’s not so strange to feel upset when thinking about someone you used to date, right? No one was bound to be joyous about an old flame getting hitched. What Kiyoomi was feeling was totally normal, even though he despised it.

“It’s getting late. Let’s head back, Hinata.”

Kiyoomi didn’t feel like sleeping yet, so he wiled his time in the balcony, leaning against the railing and staring up at the sky. A silver moon illuminated the cloudless night, a few stars dotting the dark expanse. Kiyoomi wasn’t one to wax poetic, but his melancholy was making him wish he were in the countryside where the light pollution didn’t blot out too much of the stars. It could be nice.

“Did something happen with Ushijima-san?” Hinata asked, coming up beside him, hair still damp from his shower.

Kiyoomi was silent.

“Maybe talking about it would make you feel better!”

“You’re just curious, aren’t you?”

Hinata grinned, holding up his index and thumb. “Just a _little_ bit.”

After considering it for a moment, Kiyoomi finally replied. “Wakatoshi-kun is getting married.”

“Woah! That’s great for him! Who’s he—” Seeing his roommate’s face, Hinata stopped. “Err… Uhm… And that… upset you?”

“I guess.”

Hinata ventured a guess. “Are you jealous?”

Kiyoomi scowled. “Jealous… You mean something like I wish I were the one getting together with Wakatoshi?”

Hinata nodded. “Maybe you wanted to get back together with him or something.”

“No, that’s not it.” Shaking his head, Kiyoomi plucked a camellia in the planter beside him. He picked at the petals in his hands. Painstakingly slowly. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to give Hinata the wrong impression. “Wakatoshi and I dated in high school and a little bit while I was in college. We broke up two years ago. Those feelings are over. Really.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

Kiyoomi collected his messy thoughts before replying. There was no way to explain what he was feeling without talking about their history. “When I was in university, Wakatoshi was already a professional athlete. We were both busy, and we couldn’t see each other all that often. But when we did, things were good.” He paused. “I don’t know when it started to change. We used to talk every day and then we started talking less and less. Then gradually—days would pass without a message from either of us. Then days turned into weeks. Then months. And then I heard Wakatoshi was dating someone new and I wasn’t even _bothered_ by it. Our relationship had fizzled out. It was just over.”

Kiyoomi glanced at Hinata, who looked increasingly confused. “So, if you weren’t bothered by Wakatoshi dating then, why does it bother you now that he’s getting married? You say you’re not jealous, and you don’t want to be with him romantically—I just don’t get why you’re upset?”

“I just… I don’t know… I don’t like how things ended between us. It was all just so—” Kiyoomi struggled to find the right word “—anticlimactic? Unceremonious?”

Hinata’s blank stare made it clear he wasn’t explaining this well.

Kiyoomi wrung his hands together, feeling terribly exposed. “I can’t help but feel like I should have done _more_. When I felt us drifting apart, why didn’t I do anything? Maybe I should have—I don’t know—tried to talk to him? Ask him why weren’t we talking anymore? What changed? What could I do?” He sighed again. “I just hate feeling that I hadn’t given my best, that maybe I could have tried harder, fought for it more, but I didn’t. And this regret just keeps haunting me. Because what if I _did_ try? Would it have made a difference? Would we still be together? Would he be marrying me instead? I don’t know.”

Kiyoomi paused, then added, “A part of me wishes we had some big messy breakup—screaming and crying and all that. Instead we just let it all… _drift_. It feels unfinished. Like I picked up a book and stopped reading just before the ending. I never got to see what happened. And here I am, two years later, with all these what-ifs and regrets and Wakatoshi has so clearly moved on. I hate that there’s this loose thread I keep fussing with. I feel stuck. That’s it. I feel _stuck_.”

Hinata was silent, staring off at the distance.

“Well?” Kiyoomi asked, wondering what his roommate was thinking. “Any reaction?”

“That was the most I’ve heard you talk in one go. I’m kinda surprised,” Hinata replied with a slight grin.

Kiyoomi grunted. At least that lightened the mood. “You have more experience in this area—don’t you have any advice?”

Hinata cocked his head and thought about it. Then, brightening at a sudden idea, said, “How about you message Ushijima-san, ‘We broke up Wakatoshi-kun,’ for a sense of closure?”

At that moment, Kiyoomi genuinely wondered why he was attracted to this man. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Did you even understand anything I told you?”

“I’m serious! If all you want is finality, then just make it yourself. There’s no need to make it so complicated. You had a relationship, it ended on terms you didn’t like. Next time, you know better, and you’ll do better.” Hinata shrugged. “Seems simple enough to me.”

Kiyoomi was baffled. Did this guy really just shrug off his whole crisis into _just do better next time_? He couldn’t even be angry—he was just incredulous. Slowly, his befuddlement gave way to laughter, surprising even himself. “You’re so simpleminded,” he said, reaching out to ruffle Hinata’s hair. It felt good to laugh.

“C’mon, no need to be mean. I’m trying to help you here.”

“I meant it in a good way.” He was still running his fingers through Hinata’s messy orange tufts, enjoying how soothing this small gesture was. He didn’t even think about how intimate this action was. Hinata probably didn’t mind. Bokuto gave him lots of hair ruffles.

“Cut it out,” Hinata said with a chuckle, catching Kiyoomi’s wrist and holding it in place beside his cheek. His laughter faded, and then he was staring up at Kiyoomi, wrist still in his hand.

This was a moment, right? Gazing into each other’s eyes under a starry night sky, surrounded by the plants and flowers they had tended to together. The warmth of Hinata’s rough fingers circling his wrist. How many moments had Kiyoomi let pass between them—all those lingering looks, casual touches—because he thought too long, hesitated, shied away from throwing himself into something that could be troublesome? He didn’t want to think anymore. Didn’t want another regret to stash away and revisit over and over.

So he brushed his thumb over Hinata’s cheek and leaned in.

Then, before their lips could touch, Hinata let go of Kiyoomi’s wrist, placed his hands on his shoulders, and gently pushed him away. “We, uhm, shouldn’t,” Hinata muttered, looking down at his feet, his hands still on Kiyoomi’s shoulders.

Kiyoomi suddenly felt cold, the harsh reality of the rejection settling on him. Stepping back, he mumbled an apology, and then beelined to his room without a glance behind him.

He leaned against his bedroom door, sliding to the floor. For once, his head was empty. He felt strangely calm, sitting alone in his darkened room. Sure he had been rejected, but at least he put himself out there. That was good, right? He tried. That’s all he ever needed to do. And now he had his answer. There was nothing left to worry about. He would never have to rack his brain trying to discern Hinata’s intentions for all his flirting, didn’t need to think anymore about how to ask him out, or if he should. Didn’t need to waste his energy imagining or hoping for a good ending.

He had his answer. It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not over yet, omi-san! don't worry.

**Author's Note:**

> scream about haikyuu and other manga with me on [twt](https://twitter.com/thisismycoffin)


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